


such a pretty face, on a pretty neck

by cabinbythesea



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Choking, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Drug Use, Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, M/M, Making Out, Marijuana, Marriage, Morning Sex, Neck Kissing, Nipple Play, Pet Names, Silver Fox, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 16:20:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19429639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabinbythesea/pseuds/cabinbythesea
Summary: Harry goes to the Met Gala. Pink carpets just aren't Louis' thing, but Harry is.





	such a pretty face, on a pretty neck

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: this is just my imagination!!
> 
> hii so this is obviously based off of the met gala 2019, and I considered putting a different type of drug use in this but decided to stick to weed for triggering reasons (bc we all saw harry's eyes at the met *wink wink*). I would also like to apologize for the amount of times I use the word "proud" in this fic, it's actually disgusting and should be illegal 
> 
> hope it's alright :)

Harry is  _ nervous.  _

He has yet to leave his hotel room and his hands are sweating, __ h e’s making himself even  _ more  _ nervous because Jen just finished his nails, and he cannot mess them up this early, okay? 

Not to mention the fact that his ear is sore from the fresh piercing and he kind of maybe regrets trimming his hair for this. Alessandro continues to reconcile him with the fact that “It works harmoniously with the femininity and masculinity of the piece” which Harry understands, of course, and wholeheartedly agrees with. He is just kind of maybe freaking out and Louis needs to stop looking so  _ calm  _ before Harry throws something at his head.

“I might really genuinely kick you in the shins,” Harry deadpans, staring at Louis’ full white-robed form on the california king. He is really sat there, eating fucking  _ grapes _ of all things, while Harry feels as if he wants to put an immediate end to his career.

Louis rolls his eyes, pops another grape, and pulls himself up to stand in front of Harry. He takes Harry’s face between his hands, soft enough to not mess up his makeup. “You need to stop.” He presses his thumb to Harry’s top lip, “Everyone  _ loves  _ you and there is literally nothing you could do wrong here, babe.”

Harry crumbles a bit, looking at his husband with his handsome face and honest eyes, he leans his weight against the wall behind him, looking up at the ceiling. “ _ You  _ need to stop acting as if this isn’t a big deal to me” and he wants to apologize as soon as the words leave him.

“Harry,” Louis warns, forcing him to look back to him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, wrapping his fingers around Louis wrist that is against his cheek, kisses the inside.

“It’s okay,” he nods, understanding.  _ Always  _ so understanding. “You’re just nervous. I know that.”

Harry nods, closes his eyes for a moment. He does some pregnant breathing exercises that he read about on an online pregnant yoga forum a few months back. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Harry waves him off. “Pregnant yoga.”

Louis laughs. “Did you snort something  _ already _ ? A bit early for that, don’t ya think?”

Harry smacks him in the side. “I’m leaving now.”

“Oh?” Louis cocks his hip. “The weird pregnant breathing yoga helped, then?”

Harry glares at him. “You have approximately twenty seconds to kiss me goodbye before I ruin my own career forever and ever" and Harry doesn't think he is being dramatic in the slightest.

Louis smiles at him with that Harry Glint in his eye. “Be glad you didn’t sign a prenup, then,” Louis winks. “C’mere.”

Harry pauses him with a palm to Louis’ chest. “Don’t mess up the lips.”

He has a feeling Louis wasn't really listening to him, just watching his mouth instead. “Would never.”

They manage to keep it decent as to not mess with Harry’s attire, but Louis does end up having to pat a smudge off the corner of his lip.

“I’ll see you after. You’re gonna smash it.”

Harry breathes for what feels like the first time since the pregnant yoga. “You’ll be watching?”

“Course. Always.” He kisses the ring on Harry’s finger.

With a final nod, Harry forces himself to go meet Alessandro by the elevators.

_ Fuck  _ is the message he recieves from Harry as he’s on his way to the party.

_ No phones at the Met Harold !! _

_ Fuck  _ he repeats again.

_ Hold tight. On the way . . . meet at the table? _

_ Please _

It takes Louis all of an hour to get ready for the party. His outfit is a nicely patterned suit - camp enough for him and his personal style, at least. Once he arrives, he is escorted to a table near the front. Music is blasting with people still arriving. He spots the elite of the elite everywhere he looks and it makes him a tad bit uncomfortable, but then he feels someone take the seat next to him.

“Fuck.”

Louis chuckles, taking in Harry’s appearance. He changed his outfit already, big red bow sitting tight on his collarbone. “As you’ve said! You did so good, love.” He looks humid, like he could use some fresh hair. Louis tells him as much.

Harry nods in agreeance and takes a deep breath before grabbing Louis’ hand, leading them through the back. They greet common faces with waves and handshakes as they weave through the crowd. Harry takes them up a flight of stairs to a small balcony, fit for no more than two.

Harry leans his back against the railing, facing Louis. His hands are behind his neck and he looks up to the sky, breathing deep. His hair is beginning to let loose and the bow around his neck is already twisted.

“I can’t believe I survived that.”

Louis grins, taking a fag out of his back pocket. “I believe it.” He lights up, giving a slow drag.

Harry looks at him, reaches an arm out. Louis complies, stepping into Harry’s space. Harry is looking him up and down, nodding to himself. “You look hot," he considers. adjusting Louis' collar for him.

“Yeah? You look like a present.” Harry gapes at him and stomps on his toe. “Hey! A present I want to  _ unwrap _ .”

He takes the cig from Louis’ lips, taking a drag and making a disgusted face. “Not letting you unwrap anything tasting like this.” There’s no heat behind it, of course. He watches as Harry bends to put it out against the cement ground, though. Louis still looks at him with stars in his eyes, looks at him with galaxies when he says, “I’m supposed to announce Cher in ten.”

He nods in acknowledgment, shakes himself out of his proud-spouse thoughts. He rubs his thumb beneath Harry’s lip, a smudge of lipstick gone astray. “That’s sick. How long is she on for?”

Harry shrugs, spreads his legs a bit for Louis to fit closer. “A few songs, most likely. Then Gaga has a speech.”

Louis hums before squinting at him. “Did you smoke already?”

Harry tilts his head at him, lips slightly crooked. “What do you think?” His eyes are definitely more hooded than usual and he looks like he’s having trouble keeping his head up. Louis holds his face to help him.

“Looks like edibles to me,” Louis decides.

Harry dimples, closes his eyes when he tilts his head to kiss Louis palm. “One too many gummies, if we’re honest.”

Louis hums in understanding. “You’re okay, though?”

Harry kisses him sweet, “More than. Will get you some after I introduce.” Louis kisses him back, tilting his head, maybe sliding his thumb between Harry’s lips, as well. He looks too pretty not to, heavy eyes not leaving Louis’ own.

“Who has ‘em?” Louis asks mainly to know who gave them to Harry, which Harry knows if the way he swirls his tongue around Louis’ thumb is any indication.

“Mark.”

Louis pushes his thumb in farther, feeling Harry swallow around the digit, before pulling it out suddenly. “Tsk, tsk. Don’t want you to be too worked up for your speech.”

Harry frowns, pushes his lower half towards Louis. “Already worked up.”

Louis shakes his head at him in bewilderment, still amazed by this man - by his unabashed eagerness to please and be pleased. “ _ Too  _ worked up.”

Harry rolls his eyes, pushes Louis shoulders so he moves back a bit. “You’re the worst. And boring.”

Louis reaches for his hand, making kissy faces at him. “I love you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. Started towards the stairs. “You're alright, I guess . . . c’mon.”

“Guys, gals, and nonbinary pals!” Harry greets from the stage. Louis cheers along with the crowd, proud smile bright on his face. 

“He’s doing great!” Alessandro pats his shoulder.

Louis' face could crack in two. “It’s amazing, mate. He couldn’t have done it without you, honestly.”

Alessandro scoffs, “Or you,” with a wink.

Louis just laughs with a happier beat than usual in his chest and listens to the rest of Harry’s introduction. “. . . and finally, the lovely Cher!” 

Louis has yet to have a sip of alcohol and he feels intoxicated off the way Harry moves. He comes prancing off the stage and Louis is prideful to have those glinting eyes directed solely at him.

“C’mon,” Harry immediately goes to tug on his hand, “edibles.” Alessandro gives them a smirk before they’re off. Harry trips over things that aren’t there and Louis steadies him slow by the hips. Harry leads them to the stage where Mark is DJing.

“Oh! Hey, nice to see you again, man,” Mark greets over the music. They embrace in the broiest bro hug that Harry starts giggling into his fist.

“Yeah, yeah! You too, mate!” Louis smiles kindly, reaching for Harry by his side. “Sick tunes.”

“Thanks. Lemme know if you got any requests throughout the night. I’ll be here until . . . well, until I get tired,” he chuckles.

“I have requests!” Harry shouts, moving passed Louis to get to the laptop.

Mark waves in front of him. “By all means, give it a look.”

Louis shakes his head with a smirk. “The only thing he’s gonna end up requesting is more of that weed.”

Mark looks serene. “It is some good shit, man. Here, take a few for best results.” He gets a baggie out from beneath the booth, pours some tiny candies into Louis’ hand.

“That’s quite a bit . . . aren’t that strong, then?” Louis asks, but does not wait for the answer, throwing them back despite what Mark's reply may be.

“Eh, depends. Sure you’ll be at the same stage as the rest of us, since you’re no newbie.”

“Drugs? Not in my vocabulary.”

Mark laughs before Harry lets out a high squeal and they both turn towards the sound. “Stay High! You _got_ to play it. Please, it’s so ironic and -”

“Alright, alright,” Louis muses. He presumes he should get Harry away from the booth before he starts playing - god forbid - One Direction. “Let Mark do his job, love.”

He pouts like a schoolboy. “Sorry, Mark.”

Mark gives them an assumed look. “You’re just fine, Harry. Here,” he reaches in to get the tiny bag back out, “take these and save them for later. It's gonna be along night.”

Harry grins and Louis thanks him. “We ought to go back to our seats for a bit, babe. Wanna be sitting when this hits.”

Harry couldn’t even tell you that last time Louis’ been high off edibles. He mainly smokes because unlike Harry himself, he tends to be too impatient to wait for the digestive process.

Harry’s high is still going steady. Celebrity weed does not fuck about, to say the least. So, by this point in the night, everyone is fucked up one way or another, and it is not strange in the slightest when Louis spreads his legs a tad. Sat on the chair invitingly, hair becoming more loose as the night wears on, he tilts his head to see through his now high-hooded eyes at Harry.

Harry gives him a look that says _No, absolutely not_ and Louis licks his bottom lip, the bastard. He kicks Harry’s toe with his own, but leaves it there afterwards. The music is too loud, party still going strong and Harry knows he’s going to give in. There is no doubt about it when he has someone like Louis.

Louis holds his hand out to him. He tries for what is supposed to be a smirk, but turns into more of a goofy smile when Harry intertwines their fingers. He hums happily when Harry finally stands up to take the extra step into Louis’ lap. He’s sat sideways, Louis’ arm secure around his waist, other hand tucked between Harry’s thighs. He balances himself with his left arm around Louis’ neck, the other holding his vodka cran. 

“Sip?” Harry asks.

Louis nods gratefully and Harry feeds it to him, watching the way his throat moves when he swallows.

Louis licks his lips. “Fucking dry. Feels like I’ve smoked seventeen blunts in my mouth.”

Harry scrunches his brow. “Lemme get water.” He looks around for the wait staff, does not see any, so tries to get up to go get it himself.

“No, baby.” Louis stops him with a squeeze to his hip. “‘M fine.”

Harry cups his cheek, presses his thumb lightly beneath his eye, watches Louis’ eyes droop. “Droopy.”

Louis tilts his head a bit to kiss his palm. “It’s pretty good shit, innit?”

Harry hums. “Can we kiss?”

Louis barks out a laugh at that, which Harry doesn’t quite get, too focused on caressing the tiny crinkles around Louis’ eye when he laughs. “Can kiss me anywhere you’d like. Anytime.”

Harry whines deep in his throat at that thought. “What are you so hot for?”

Louis gives him a quick teasing peck. “That was lovely.”

Harry huffs in defeat, rolls his head on Louis’ shoulder, speaking mostly into his neck when he says how “It’s really messed up, honestly. Just wanna suck the life out of your cock every second of the day. ‘S all I can think about.” Harry sighs and pouts like it is a first world issue.

“ _ Harry _ ,” Louis scolds him through his teeth, “we’re at the fucking Met Gala.” Louis sounds like he does not know whether to laugh or cry about it.

Harry presses his nose against Louis’ throat. “And? Last time I checked they got fancy toilets.”

“Jesus,” he swears, scratching at his scruff, “I’m too old for this.”

Harry wiggles in his lap. He stuffs both his hands in Louis’ hair, forcing Louis to look at him. “My little silver fox.”

Louis rolls his eyes, “Hardly,” and puckers his lips expectantly.

They kiss quite innocently for the conversation prior, but only because of the wandering eyes.

“Boys!” Alessandro interrupts. “Sorry, sorry. Must dance! Come!”

Louis groans in regret, but taps Harry’s hip, signaling him to get up.

“Let’s go,” Harry sighs, taking his hand and following Alessandro in the process. He leads them back to a corner with a small group. Louis stands behind him, leaves his hands on his hips to let him know he’s still here. Here for him, to be proud for him, support him. _Always._

Harry changes their position as new people greet them, wrapping his left arm around Louis’ shoulders and leaning into him. He holds him close when Louis secures his waist. Harry can tell Lou’s getting restless, and himself not too far behind.

When Louis wakes up, he remembers the previous night, he does! He made it his duty to make sure Harry remembered his first time co-hosting the Met Gala . . . to an  _ extent,  _ that is.

Harry has his naked legs wrapped between the sheets, arms spread wide from where Louis once resided. He lets him sleep as long as he needs, seeing as they did not get back to the hotel until just before seven in the morning.

Louis himself, still feeling drowsy, places a kiss to Harry’s temple before ordering room service. Harry stirs at the sound of Louis on the phone, so he simply slides his fingers into his hair, relaxing him back into sleep.

He asks the room service to leave it outside as to not wake him, Harry somewhat of the light sleeper. He finally takes it upon himself to run them a scolding bath in the spacious jacuzzi. He notes the ensuite is almost nicer than their one at home.

The running of the water must wake him, because when Louis goes to check on him, he’s rubbing at his eyes, making groaning noises deep in his throat. Louis winces for him, but runs to the door to collect brekkie before getting back to him.

Harry’s still got the balls of his hands pressing into his eyes, lips sucked between his teeth. “Babe,” he whispers to not startle him. He sits at the open space by Harry’s hip. Even in this state, Harry moves his leg to press against Louis’ thigh. Louis smiles at him even though he doesn’t see it. “Ready to move up a tad? Water.” Harry leaves his eyes squinted shut, but complies, moving just enough to get the glass down. Louis cradles the back of his neck, massaging a bit to maybe hopefully release some pressure there. “Can open your eyes, you know. Blinds are closed. Curtains and all.”

Harry moans, but eventually peaks his eyes open, adjusting to the minimal light that can enter the room. “Fuck.”

“Headache?” Louis’ brows crunch in concern.

“Not even.” Harry makes grabby hands at him and Louis presses against him. “So fuckin’ tired. Eyes hurt. Time ‘s it?”

“Only eleven,” Louis holds Harry’s hair back out of his eyes, “can sleep more after brekkie.”

“And after the bath you’re running me, you mean?” Louis hates that his stomach still clenches at the smirk on Harry’s lips.

“The bath I’m running  _ us.  _ Don’t get all cocky now, mister Met Gala host.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but can't hide his smile. “ _ Co- _ host.”

“I said what I said.”

“Stop talking. Eat. Bath. Bed.”

Louis pours him some tea when he takes a slow bite of toast. “You sound like a middle-aged mother’s welcome mat.”

Harry blinks at him. “I am that.”

Louis cannot even find it in him to argue.

By the time they are finished with breakfast and dipping into the tub, Louis begins to think this wasn’t the best idea.

The warmth of the water makes their muscles ache in relief and Harry is having trouble keeping his head above water. 

“C’mere,” Louis chuckles, moving to turn Harry’s shoulders. “Lemme wash your hair.” Harry hums happily, allowing Louis to scoop up cups of water over his head, getting him wet before running shampoo through the strands. Harry keeps leaning into Louis touches against his scalp, and really, he could be done by now, but with Harry sighing into his hold it is harder than it ought to be. “Close your eyes.” Louis pours more water over him to rinse. He feels Harry rubbing at his ankles and calves, a nice pressure he’s thankful for.

“You know you’re just pouring our contaminated dirty water on my head.” Harry grumbles out.

Louis makes a face. “Stop thinking about it. We both have had far worse substances on us.”

“Mm.” Harry must like the sound of that, because he moves his hand up higher Louis’ thigh.

“Hey, no,” he presses a kiss to the back of his shoulder. “We’re both too tired.”

Harry pouts, throws his head back against Louis’ shoulder to gaze at him with pretty doe eyes. And yeah, it’s  _ really  _ hard for Louis to resist him, but he knows once they start, they wouldn’t even be able to finish. “But I want it.”

Louis chuckles at his genuine frown and motions him to turn so that they are chest to chest. “I know, so do I, believe me.  _ So  _ unbelievably proud of you.” He kisses up Harry’s neck until he reaches his lips. “Gonna make you feel so good, Harry,  _ god _ .”

Harry whines high in his throat when Louis kisses him deep. His arms are slack, unable to do much more than press into Louis’ thighs as he gets kissed. It’s just a hot kiss and Harry looks so pliant that Louis considers, but is knocked out of his head when Harry presses a thumb beneath his eye. “You’re so tired, too, though. Got up the same time as me yesterday. Got up to order the food, run this.” Harry shakes his head.

“‘Course.”

“Love you. Lemme wash you, then bed, then hot sex.”

“Oh,  _ hot _ sex, huh?” And Harry just looks at him through his wet lashes and wonders how he is going to make it through this nap without nutting in his sleep like a bloody teen.

They sleep wrapped around each other. Harry’s leg thrown over Louis’ own, arm laid across Louis’ chest. Once Harry finished with his hair and washed each other’s bodies down (with maximum effort of avoiding hard ons) they fall asleep as soon as their heads touched the pillows.

Harry’s face is pressed into his neck when he wakes and he can feel the slight drool from his parted lips drying there. It is all too endearing even now, at one in the afternoon. They’ve gotten enough sleep from being awake the previous forty-eight hours, but there is no such thing as too much sleep, especially after a full day’s worth of partying.

The third and final time Louis awakes, it’s to Harry rolling over onto his body completely, kissing (surprisingly quite innocently) on his neck. He has got a hand resting at the space between Louis’ neck and the bed sheets, the other moving Louis' wrists above his head, which Louis can’t help but smirk at.

“Oh?”

He feels it when Harry smiles against his neck, and he lets Harry have his way with him. Harry kisses along his neck lazily, more sweet than any real intention behind it. “Okay, changed my mind.” He let go of Louis’ wrists a minute ago, but Louis was comfortable in the position so he stayed put. “Need you to touch.”

Louis lets out a breathy laugh, mostly from Harry accidentally elbowing him in the gut. “Needy boy.”

“I want my husband to hold me and I’m  _ needy _ ?”

He wraps his arms across Harry’s back loosely. “Didn’t say it was a negative thing, darling.”

Harry grunts in a  _ That’s what I thought  _ type tone and wiggles his nose on Louis’ collarbone. “Smell good.”

Louis drags the tips of his fingers up and down Harry’s spine, the lightest of touches, but it still gives Harry tiny goosebumps over his skin. “We smell the same, I reckon.”

Harry dances his pointer finger over the ink on Louis’ chest, just as light as the touches against his own back. “You smell better.”

“You’re telling me my sweet sixteen year old boy who used to wash his hair with literal flower juice smells better than me?”

Harry stirs at that, nose scrunching to hold back his widening grin, not wanting to give Louis the satisfaction. He gets up on his elbows to look him in the eyes. “Was not  _ flower juice _ . It just had actual pressed flower scents in it.”

Louis beams at him. “You can tell me the same thing for eight plus years and I’d still call it flower juice, babe. Smelled like flowers the same.”

Harry bites his lips when Louis begins to fiddle with the curly bits of hair falling into his eyes. “You loved it.”

Louis’ smile is cheesy, he knows, when he says, “Must have,” and Harry lets out the little sigh he always does when he just can’t believe it. Can’t believe they have what they do. Each other.

“You make me wanna eat strawberries out of your mouth,” Harry says like it is the most normal thing ever and Louis’ head tilts back in a laugh, but Harry keeps him put, never letting him get too far, by his hands on his chest.

“God, you’re so pretty. The fact that you say shit like that doesn’t help.”

“ _ Shit?  _ The things I say aren’t  _ shit,  _ Louis Tomlinson.” He sits up to straddle Louis' waist instead, moves his hands lower to his abdomen.

He settles his hands onto Harry’s waist. “You do talk some shit, babe.”

“Better shut me up, then,  _ mate, _ ” Harry mocks, sliding his way down Louis’ body.

Louis settles himself in. Harry’s blowies are what get him through life, if he’s honest. Warm, wet mouth that let out the prettiest sounds, like he is  _ happy  _ and  _ honored  _ to be sucking Louis off.  “You’re sinful,  _ jesus -”  _ Louis inhales sharply when Harry deepthroats him like a champ.

He pops off with a loud  _ slurp!  _ but his hand remains pumping. “I’m an absolute  _ angel _ .” Louis fights to keep his eyes open when the pleasure becomes too much. The way Harry is hollowing his cheeks and looking at him with dark eyes is just . . . too much. Harry smirks when Louis caresses his cheek, feeling himself going in and out of Harry's mouth. “You’re gonna come already, aren’t you?”

Louis hisses and  _ almost  _ lets out an amused laugh, but Harry does that  _ thing  _ with his tongue and he’s lost again. “Don’t ask questions that you already know the answer to.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Are you gonna stop being annoying so we can both __ come before I go back to sleep?” Then, without another word, thankfully, Harry goes back to work and Louis’ coming moments later. If it were anyone else, it would be considered embarrassingly quick, too.

Harry clicks his tongue and crawls back on Louis, who is still catching his breath. He settles a hand around Harry’s pretty neck, knowing well he has still got Louis’ come in there. His eyes are dark and hooded when he finally swallows, Louis feeling it pass through Harry’s throat. He brings him into a kiss, tasting himself on his tongue. “Someone was hungry,” Louis teases, as if Harry is  _ ever  _ a spitter.

Harry rocks his hips down against Louis’ thigh. “You tasted gross.”

Louis laughs loudly at that. “Acting like you hate tasting me . . . ” Louis pinches his nipple, “my little comeslut.”

Harry bites his lip, not being able to pretend once Louis settles a hand over his briefs. “Loved it.”

“Mm,” Louis hums, slipping only his index finger to pet at Harry’s slick head. “Gonna make yourself some more? Don’t want you to still be hungry, of course.”

Harry lets out beautiful spurts of precome at Louis’ words. “Yeah -  _ fuck -  _ gonna.”

Louis finally pulls his dick out and Harry bites his neck, panting as he watches Louis’ hand touch him. “Gonna come right in my hand so I can feed it to you, hm?”

“ _ Yes,  _ Lou. God -” He ruts up into Louis’ hand.

“‘S gonna be so pretty, baby. So dirty. Look how hard you are, it’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry thrusts into Louis’ slick palm, “been horny all day watching you.”

“Yeah?” Harry nods weakly. “Can’t keep my eyes off you, Harry. Fucking  _ so  _ proud of you. Gonna make me even  _ more  _ proud when you come for me. Right now.”

“Oh, my  _ god.  _ Love you so much - gonna come.”

Harry is sweating fantastically and Louis cannot believe his luck. “ _ Yes,  _ c’mon, love.” Harry collapses into Louis’ chest and he holds him through it. Almost doesn’t even notice when he crouches down a bit to lick his own come out of Louis’ palm. He sucks Louis’ fingers into his mouth, whining when Louis pushes down on his tongue. “So fucking hot.”

“No,” he pouts when Louis pulls out his fingers, so he puts his thumb back in, tilting Harry’s face with the rest of his fingers holding his neck. “Love your fingers in my mouth, around my neck.”

Louis' smile is proud. He kisses his pretty neck. “Know you do.”

“Always make me come so hard from a bloody handjob.”

Louis grins, kisses his lips sweet. “Hey,” he nudges Harry’s nose against his, having him look at him. “I really am proud of you, you know. Unbelievably proud.”

Harry beams. “Yeah? Got yourself a singer, songwriter, actor, model,  _ and  _ Met Gala co-chair.”

Louis flips him then, attacking Harry’s neck dramatically. “Love when you speak dirty to me.”

Harry giggles with a hand at the back of Louis’ neck, a glint in his eye. “There’s more than where that came from.”

Louis blinks. “Round two?”

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: hltwink


End file.
